


No Heart

by nirvanics



Series: humanity's a fickle thing [1]
Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dark, Drabble, Gen, If You Squint - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, really really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirvanics/pseuds/nirvanics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's over one hundred years old and he still counts down the days until his pay cheque -- a monster who's desperately trying to go through the motions in the hopes of making it reality (even if he knows it'll never happen).</p><p>// ;; part of a collection of really tiny being human drabbles. no specific time set.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Heart

He’s taking too many pain-killers — little white pills that are stark contrast to the dark palm of his gloves — but he can’t find the heart to stop. The word “ _placebo_ ” almost comes to mind, but then his feet almost stop aching and his head almost stops pounding and he can almost pretend that he still doesn’t smell the industrial-brand disinfectant, even after a sweltering shower.

It’s not much of a life, he thinks _(but only sometimes because he doesn’t want to worry the others)_. It’s cleaning and going through the motions and drinking and smoking and a deep cough after he smokes more than he should, even though he’s technically already dead. It’s almost living — not quite there and sometimes it feels like a huge fucking act where the hook comes out and he’s dragged off stage.

But then they laugh and smile in their little enclave of the lost and he can forget. He sets his alarm for 16:00 and fills a cup of Tesco’s Rich Roast granules that taste a bit like piss when the sun’s coming into the kitchen too much and he almost-lives. He’s the last not-survivor of a world war, poking at the coffee film at the top of his mug. A cold-blooded murderer who walks into a hospital with his fingers itching for something he prays to some god means he only wants a cigarette.

…

He’s not really sure what he’s living for, but he can’t find the heart to stop.

**Author's Note:**

> AKA "Being Immortal and a Murderer Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be".  
> I did this for a Mitchell tumblr rp blog I have ( http://everyonehappynow.tumblr.com/ , for anyone who's interested!). Sometimes it's really difficult to get into Mitchell's head.


End file.
